Page 104 of Rebel Summer

“It’s fine. Just…I’m not getting messed up with you. Okay? The second I graduate, I’m out of here.”

“Messed up with me? What do you mean by that?”

I swallowed, ignoring the slight edge in his voice.

“Nothing.”

“Oh. So your dad doesn’t want you hanging out with me? Is that right?” This looked like it amused him in some way, which made my blood burn. He had caused the entire incident and he thought it was funny.

“No. He doesn’t.” I folded my arms.

“Why?”

My foot twitched under the table. It wasn’t in my nature to be direct, but Dax wasn’t going to stop until I told him the truth. The words of my dad from the previous night spat easily from my lips.

“Because I’m graduating valedictorian. I’m headed to Vanderbilt. I’m leaving this island. I’m not going to be working the same job I worked at in high school for the rest of my life. Take your pick.”

For the tiniest moment, he looked as though he’d been shot, betrayed in some irreparable way, and I knew it would be that image that would haunt me for the rest of my days. But then I blinked and his self assured smile was back in place and I wondered if I imagined the whole thing.

T-minus 15 days to exit

Dax hours remaining: 100

The next week whirled by in a mixture of delusion and a whole lot of fun. My shifts at the cafe were nearly over. The blue tarps were taken down, and the windows on Dax’s shop finally got replaced. And Dax and I found a thousand things to do outside of his shop that had nothing to do with Legos.

All for hours, of course.

But with bargains like these, who could possibly blame me?

For a mere ten hours, Dax had to sit with me at the farmers market for the cafe. For only five hours more, I convinced him to contribute a few of his tools and random things he’d made in the shop. The propeller clock was purchased by the honorable Judge Baylor. Several knives made out of old lawnmower blades and sheathed in material from an old boat sail were claimed by several teenage boys in town. It was as delicious as I imagined, sitting next to Dax and watching his face flush with embarrassment from the praise.

And the twenty hours Dax offered me to TP my dad’s house was worth every second. The summer was slipping from my fingers, the Lego car was at least a month away from completion, and worst of all was the growing attachment I felt for Dax Miller.

Really. Who would have seen this coming?

“How many hours do you have left?” Dax asked as we sat on the floor, side by side, with the Lego guidebook between us. The song “We Built This City” played loudly through the speakers–louder than usual, but Dax said the song deserved respect, and apparently that meant volume. He had taken to helping me more lately, since we’d been spending so much time away from his shop the past couple of weeks. The nights spent doing Legos with him became the best part of my day. It turned out that Legos weren’t the worst when someone was doing them with you.

“Last count, I had ninety-eight.”

His brow furrowed. “Since when?”

“Since I did a bunch of your invoices the other night.”

He stretched and took a drink of his Coke. “I think I’m getting robbed.”

I didn’t want to talk about the hours. About how there was no way, save stealing an ambulance and tagging a building, that I would be able to get it done in time before I left in exactly one week.

And I had to leave. Right? It would be so dumb to walk away from a career I’d spent ten years building.

So, I sat there, ignoring everything but the feel of his arm against mine while we listened to a new mix of seventies and eighties rock. When an N’SYNC song I’d secretly added a while back came on, I began bopping to the beat, carefully hiding his phone on the other side of me. Dax began patting the space on both sides of him, and when he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he tackled me as I squealed in protest. He then proceeded to roll me gently to the side. My shirt had ridden up a few inches in our scuffle and I held my breath as his fingers grazed my bare stomach as he located the phone.

It was at that moment, with me lying on the ground and half of Dax’s body leaning over me, that the door to the shop opened, and Sunset Harbor’s local senator stepped inside.

Impeccable timing, per usual.

I scooted out from under Dax and stood as my dad strode toward us. I expected rudeness and snarling, so I braced myself for it. What I got instead was much worse.

“Hello.” His voice was pleasant, and I was immediately on guard. He ignored Dax completely, choosing instead to ask if there was somewhere we could go to talk.

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